Buttons
by miss mcGonagle
Summary: Laura is having a bit of trouble and Bill comes to the rescue, eventually teaching Laura a new skill. Part 2 is now up...please note that the rating has been raised to M for the last chapter only.
1. Buttons

_So...just a little something that came to me a few weeks ago. Slightly fluffy with a few naughty thoughts from Laura thrown in. Enjoy!_

**Disclaimer: It all belongs to RDM...**

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When Bill Adama entered the President's office, he found her sitting behind her desk, fumbling with a button, a sewing needle, and one of her black blazers. Laura Roslin glanced up as he walked in and gave him a fleeting smile in greeting, but then gave a tiny yelp as she poked herself with the needle.

"Frakking needles," she muttered, shoving the blazer and sewing supplies away from her and glowering as she inspected her injured finger.

Bill chuckled.

"Having troubles, Madam President?"

She scowled, but indicated that he should have a seat as she replied.

"Why yes, actually, _Admiral. _I can't seem to master the simple task of sewing one of the buttons back on my suit jacket. I would have had Tory take it away and have it fixed, but she's been in such a funk lately I was afraid to ask and thought I'd try to do it myself."

Bill considered her over the tops of his glasses.

"You mean to say that you don't know how to sew on a button?"

"And _you _do?"

"Of course."

Laura stared at him.

"You _do?_"

Bill grinned.

"It's pretty much mandatory for military personnel to learn the basics of handling a needle and thread, for the upkeep of their uniforms."

Laura sniffed and crossed her arms.

"Well then, since _you_ are all knowing and talented," she told him in a lofty voice, "_you_ can fix my jacket while we have our meeting."

Bill laughed softly, but accepted the crumpled blazer and the tiny sewing kit she handed him.

As the two began to discuss fleet matters, Bill patiently undid Laura's messy attempts at repairing her own jacket and rethreaded the needle before slowly reattaching the little black button to the cloth. Though his hands were busy and his eyes focused on his task, Bill managed to keep up his side of the discussion.

Laura was not so focused. She found herself staring at his large, strong hands as they gently held the fabric of her jacket and managed to control the needle as well as the tiny button. She had to force her mind back to the topic of conversation time and again as her thoughts drifted towards Bill's hands and how they might treat others things; if he would be as focused and patient with other tasks, tasks her rational mind told her a Colonial President should never have been considering in regards to her military commander.

Finally, Bill noticed that Laura had yet to respond to his question about her last meeting with the quorum and glanced up to find her staring at his hands as they worked.

"It's not that difficult you know," he told her.

Laura's head jerked up and as her eyes met his, Bill thought he saw a blush rise to her cheeks.

"Ah, well," she said ruefully, holding up her hands as if to declare how worthless they were, "I just never learned."

"I didn't learn until I joined the military. But every part of a soldier's uniform is important," Bill told her. "Where would he be if his buttons weren't sewn on properly?"

"With his pants down in CIC?" Laura suggested.

A pause followed and then they both burst out laughing. While they laughed, Laura tried her damndest to keep her mind away from the thought of Bill's pants. Or Bill with his pants down. Especially in CIC. Kinky as that might be.

"So, how _was_ the quorum yesterday?" Bill asked, bringing them back to their previous conversation. "Was the Geminese representative still causing trouble over the subject of supplies?"

Laura threw herself into the topic of the Quorum of Twelve with far more zeal than it deserved; the alternative was to gaze at the admiral's hands, which she noticed had finished their work yet still held her jacket. She tried not to imagine the areas of the jacket he had touched as he repaired it; lucky shirt to have been touched by Bill Adama in places that she herself had never been.

All matters of business concerning the fleet dealt with, Bill declared, not without some regret, that he needed to return to the _Galactica_. He had a battlestar to run after all. As he rose to leave he looked down at the black jacket in his hands and smiled softly as he looked back up at Laura and silently returned the garment.

"Thanks Bill," she told him softly.

"It was my pleasure, Laura," he replied, the gravely quality of his voice increased by the soft tone he used as he smiled at her.

A few seconds passed in silence as they smiled at one another and then he nodded a farewell and turned to go.

As he left, Laura decided that she should find a few more buttons that needed to be sewn back on. Even if she had to tear them off. And if the buttons happened to belong to Bill's uniform, she reflected, that really wouldn't be such a terrible thing at all.


	2. Damn Woman

Bill Adama was a deep thinker, Saul knew. Countless times the colonel had witnessed his best friend lost in thought as he stood in CIC planning an attack or turning over facts and figures inside his head. But this intense, almost catatonic gaze that Bill was currently leveling at the console was something new.

Saul was reminded of the weeks following Boomer's assassination attempt; Bill's return to the CIC had been punctuated with heavy silences and many a long look at the lit surface that had still borne small smears of dark blood.

This sudden return to that level of focus was slightly disconcerting; Saul could not imagine what might have occurred to send his best friend and commanding officer back into such a state.

"Bill?" The quiet attempt at the admiral's attention drew no response, so Saul tried again, louder this time. "Admiral Adama."

The other man eye's eyes slid back into focus immediately and he turned to his XO sharply.

"Colonel?"

"Everything alright there, Bill?" His voice was casual, but the concern was clear in his eye as he addressed his friend.

Bill grunted.

"I was just thinking about something the president said earlier."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah."

Saul waited, but it seemed that Bill did not feel the need to share whatever it was that Roslin had said. This piqued his curiosity, but he knew better than to press Bill Adama for information and so the two men resumed their silent vigil.

A minor crisis on the flight deck threw them into motion for a few minutes. Lords of Kobol, how Saul hated nuggets. More trouble than they were worth in his opinion. Once this problem had been dealt with Bill fell back into his trance, eyes focused on the CIC console.

Saul knew something was up; whatever Roslin said earlier had really gotten to Bill.

_That damn woman_, Saul thought. She really knew how to get under the Bill's skin. Though the colonel was beginning to suspect that his friend rather enjoyed that now.

When he saw the admiral run his hand along the edge of the console, a look of contemplation on his rugged face, Saul decided it was time to try again.

"Bill, something's on your mind. That much I know. What's going on?"

Bill turned his gaze upon his friend then looked away and rubbed his face wearily.

"My thoughts, I can't seem to control where they go these days."

This wry declaration prompted a small laugh from the XO.

"And where have they been off to today?"

Saul could have sworn he saw a red flush rise just above Bill's collar.

"Somewhere they shouldn't."

A smirk found its way to Saul's face.

"They wouldn't have happened to be visiting a certain president, now would they?"

Bill's glare was dampened somewhat by the blush that had spread across his features. Saul blinked. Bill Adama was _blushing_.

Something told Saul he probably shouldn't inquire further, if only for his own sanity. But he did anyway.

"And how was Madame President today?"

Bill shook his head and chuckled, no doubt marveling at how awkward and inappropriate it was to be having a locker room conversation in the middle of CIC.

"She was fine," he muttered. "Very fine indeed."

Saul snorted.

"You've got it bad my friend. So what was it she said this morning that caused your wayward thoughts to go back for a second round?"

Bill said nothing and Saul's smirk grew.

"What? Roslin say she'd frak you in CIC?"

The other man seemed to choke on his own saliva and Saul thumped him on the back.

"Not exactly," he rasped.

Saul's one eye widened and images he had never in his life wanted to imagine flashed through his mind.

"I was kidding, Bill. I didn't think you two were actually…"

"We're not. My mind forgets that sometimes."

"Ah."

The two men were silent once more. Saul fidgeted with the cuffs of his uniform and posed another question.

"So should I ask why you've been staring at the console all day?"

Bill cleared his throat.

"No, you probably shouldn't."

"Oh," Saul nodded in agreement. Then his eye widened again. "_Oh_."

It was definitely time to stop this line of questioning. Bill Adama was having CIC fantasies about Laura Roslin, the president of the frakking Twelve Colonies. In CIC. That was far more than Saul needed to know.

At least he knew Bill wasn't suffering from any morose thoughts about his near death experience, long ago as it was, atop the CIC console. Saul blinked rapidly. Best not to think about anyone lying atop that console.

"Well Bill, I think I should go check on those nuggets. You know, give 'em a kick in the ass for being such idiots." Anything to get out of CIC for a few minutes.

Bill glanced absently at a report in front of him.

"Sure, good idea."

Saul could tell from his tone that Bill was distracted again. And it wasn't by that fuel report.

Saul exited the room as quickly as he could without breaking into an outright run.

_Damn woman_.


	3. Pastimes

**The final "chapter"! This was written for roslinforever over at LiveJournal. She requested this ages ago and I finally got around to finishing it. Please note that this chapter is rated M. **

**Thank you to everyone who has been following this little fic and for all the reviews. **

_Bill had to admit he was charmed by the scene presented to him upon entering the president's office; Laura Roslin sat at her desk, dark red hair falling forward into her face as she fumbled with a sewing needle and what he recognized as one of her black blazers. She heard him enter and peered up at him over her glasses then gave him a small smile. This proved to be a mistake as the brief lapse in attention caused her to prick a finger on the wrong end of the needle._

"_Frakking needles."_

_Bill had to laugh; this was as close to petulant as he had ever seen this woman and it amused him to no end._

"_Having troubles, Madam President?" He was asking for a fight, and he knew it, but Bill could hardly pass by the rare opportunity to tease President Laura Roslin. _

_He sat as she indicated and found himself surprised by her admission that she honestly had no idea how to sew. She seemed just as startled to discover that he did. Bill grinned; she had no idea how many nights early on in his military career that he had sat up practicing this craft or the number of times he had used this hard won skill to add patches or repair loose buttons on his uniform._

"_It's pretty much mandatory for military personnel to learn the basics of handling a needle and thread, for the upkeep of their uniforms."_

_Her endearing petulance continued and amidst his teasing, Bill found him repairing the jacket himself. Eventually he became aware that she was staring at his hands and the work they were doing. He felt this gave him the right to tease her just a little._

"_It's not that difficult you know."_

_Laura's head jerked up and Bill swore he saw a blush across her cheeks. She wasn't thinking about anything inappropriate was she? He rather hoped she was._

_After she admitted that she had simply never learned how to sew, Bill took pity and assured her that had not learned until he joined the military. _

"_But every part of a soldier's uniform is important," he told her. "Where would he be if his buttons weren't sewn on properly?"_

"_With his pants down in CIC?"_

_Her quick response threw him completely off guard and there was no stopping the mental image of Laura bent over the CIC console, her skirt bunched up around her hips…_

_They both laughed, but Bill used this distraction to search his mind for a benign topic that would give him time to take a few deep breaths and imagine himself standing under a cold shower. Otherwise he would have to stall and keep that damned jacket in his lap for a while longer. And damn but he was going to have a…hard time staying focused the next time he was in the CIC._

*****

Laura Roslin had gorgeous fingers. That was what Bill Adama was thinking about as he sank down onto his couch after a long shift in CIC, the president's fingers. They were long and slender and her skin was the softest he had encountered.

Those fingers were currently occupied with a needle and thread, busy fixing a button onto one of Bill's uniform jackets. Her technique was still a bit messy and her beautiful fingers were clumsy, but she still managed to reattach the button. It was her responsibility to fix as she was the reason it came off in the first place. It seemed that once Bill had offered to teach her how to repair buttons, she'd taken that as permission to rip off every button from every article of clothing he owned.

Watching her, Bill thought back to the day she'd come by unannounced, a blouse in one hand and a small white button in the other. She wanted him to teach her how to repair it herself. He'd taught her happily, enjoying the feel of her hands in his as he guided her with the needle and thread. Of course, it wasn't long before their hands began to wander and the sewing project was abandoned on the coffee table.

*****

_Bill's fingers gently caressed the legs he had loved far longer than the woman who possessed them. He was startled to find that his hands were trembling as he touched her. Laura had noticed and she tilted his head so that his eyes met hers. She smiled slightly and kissed him, softly at first. He permitted her to set the pace as he tried to commit to memory every brush of her lips against his, the pressure of her hand along the side of his face, the taste of her mouth._

_Her kisses calmed him and steadied his hands which then moved more boldly across her skin. He pulled one leg across his lap and began to trace whorls across the skin of her inner thigh, revealed to his eager hands as her skirt rode up. _

_Laura sighed against his mouth._

"_I was right about those hands," she whispered. _

"_What about them?"_

_She shook her head and smiled, refusing to share the secret. _

_The flush from her arousal rose from her breasts up to her neck and Bill leaned closer so that he could kiss every inch of the pink skin exposed through the deep vee of her white shirt. Laura's fingers slid through his hair as his lips brushed the soft swells of her breasts, tightening almost painfully as he followed the same path with his tongue. As his mouth began a slow journey up her chest to her neck, his hand resumed its own journey along her thigh._

_While Bill continued his exploration of her neck and thigh, Laura fumbled with the fastenings on his jacket._

"_Bill, if you don't help me get this thing off of you I'll just rip it apart," she told him at last, her patience wearing thin._

_He chuckled and let his head rest in the crook of her neck._

"_Why not," he joked. "Then you could get in some sewing practice when you put the buttons back on."_

_Laura considered this for all of five seconds before gripping his jacket and wrenching it apart. The multitude of buttons that held it together went flying and Bill looked up at Laura in shock. She smirked and looked immensely pleased with herself._

"_Well," she said, "practice makes perfect."_

_Bill could only laugh in astonishment as she calmly divested him of his jacket and tanks. Under his appreciative stare, Laura removed her own top and as she reached back to unhook the clasp of her bra, Bill's hand joined hers. Together they tossed it to the ground and when she rose to slip out of her skirt, he stood as well and took her hand. At her questioning gaze he kissed her then led her to his rack._

_When they had reached the rack they each took a moment to shed their remaining clothes. Laura sat on the edge of the bed, her eyes roaming over Bill's body as he waited for a sign for him to join her. She reached out and with one finger, drew a line from his heart down to his hip where his hand caught hers. She laced their fingers together and pulled him down onto the mattress._

_He stretched out alongside her body, one leg draped across hers but she quickly pulled him closer. They were both ready for this. As he kissed her, Bill pushed himself up on one arm and moved his body over hers. Together they guided him to her entrance and he slowly pushed forward, filling her completely. They rested like that for a moment before Bill slowly withdrew and then pushed in again._

_Laura's hands slid up his back as he thrust into her, one hand eventually resting on the back of his neck. She pulled his head down so that his lips stayed on hers and their kisses soon matched the languid tempo of his carefully restrained thrusts._

_Bill braced himself on his left arm and kept his right free so that his hand could trail down her leg. When he reached her calf he lifted it to his hip and let his hand fall to her thigh where his fingertips resumed their mindless patterns. _

_His self-control began to waver and the movement of his hips grew faster. Laura cried out against his lips as his hips connected more forcefully with her clit._

_Bill's hand moved to tease her inner thigh as he maintained the new tempo as Laura shifted her hips to match his so that they met with each thrust. She threw her head to the side as the pressure built and she exhaled with a choked cry as a rough jerk of his hips sent her over the edge. The rhythmic contractions of her inner muscles clenched around him and with a final thrust Bill came, his cock pulsing within her as his entire body shuddered with his release._

_He threw out his other arm out to catch himself so that he would not crush Laura with his weight, but she pulled him down across her body and rubbed his back._

"_Stay the night," he rasped, knowing that he couldn't bear to spend the night in this bed without her._

_She nodded once and met his lips in a long kiss._

"_Of course."_

*****

Ever since that night Laura had taken great pleasure in carelessly undressing herself and him, just for the pleasure of repairing their garments afterwards and smirking over her work. Bill wasn't about to complain; watching her crawl around searching for lost buttons, generally nude, was half the fun.

"You know, it won't be long before the fleet declares a thread shortage," he told her, breaking the comfortable silence. "Everyone will blame you."

Laura smirked.

"I don't hear you complaining, Admiral," she commented, her voice wry.

Bill smiled and leaned closer so that he could run his fingers through her hair.

"Oh no complaints from me," he assured her. "I have no problems with your button fetish."

"_Fetish_?"

"Well what would you call it then?" he asked. "A hobby? A kink?"

"A pastime," she suggested.

He chuckled and gently pulled the uniform jacket and sewing materials from her hands and laid them on the table. Laura followed his lead and was soon settled in her customary spot in his lap.

"Do you have any _pastimes_, Bill?"

She purred her question into his ear as she nuzzled his neck. His hands had already moved to her legs, retracing the paths they had followed many times before.

"I suppose you could say that," he replied, laughter in his voice.

"Tell me."

"All right," he said, his fingers now tracing loops across her thighs. "I have this one particular fantasy, and it's become a favorite _pastime_ of mine to consider how it might be achieved."

Laura laughed softly, her warm breath washing across his neck.

"You know you could just ask," she teased.

"Ah, but it's not in your power to make it happen," Bill told her, his eyes alight with humor.

Laura was not amused. She sat up quickly and pushed his hands away.

"Why is that?" she demanded. "Is there someone else involved?"

Bill sighed and shook his head. He ran his hands along her back soothingly and pulled her close so that he could place a gentle kiss on her lips.

"Never," he promised, and her eyes softened under his loving gaze.

"Sorry," she whispered, then cleared her throat. "Then tell me why there's difficulty in arranging this fantasy of yours."

"Because even as the admiral of the fleet, it is no easy task to arrange a tryst in the CIC," he told her, his voice low and serious.

She gasped and then giggled.

"Bill!"

"What?"

"Oh my gods…you're serious."

"Of course I am."

"But that would be impossible," she exclaimed, her eyes wide and incredulous.

"And yet so much fun," he replied, squeezing her ass for emphasis. She giggled and squirmed in his lap.

"Mmm, well let me know when you've devised a feasible plan," she instructed. As she spoke she rose and slowly moved so that she straddled his hips.

"I'll make sure to brief you on the plan the moment it's ready," he told her, his face stern and serious.

"Good," she murmured.

Her lips brushed over his and they shared several long heated kisses before she pulled away slightly.

"Now back to _my_ pastime," she told him, her hands already tugging at the buttons of his uniform jacket.

Before Bill could open his mouth to protest, the first button snapped free and rolled down his chest to rest beside him on the couch.

"_Laura_," Bill spoke her name in a warning tone as she popped yet another button from his uniform.

She was focused on her task and barely glanced up from her work. "Yes, Bill?"

He was about to issue another warning about the bits of his uniform that were being scattered across the room, but then her nails raked across his stomach and under the waistband of his pants and he was lost.

His hands travelled quickly across her thighs, skimming over her hips and torso until they found her breasts. He quickly decided there were too many layers dividing them and tugged at the lapels of her jacket until the buttons holding it closed popped loose and he was able to slide it down her arms. Her shirt quickly followed her jacket, and his, onto the floor and the garments were soon joined by her bra.

Bill was reluctant to let release his hold on Laura in order to remove the rest of her clothes, especially since she seemed rather reluctant to release her hold on _him_. It required some brief maneuvering, but he managed to adjust her clothing and his just enough so that Laura could position herself above him and slide down his shaft.

Laura's fingernails cut into his shoulders as she gasped and moved above him. Bill imagined the pressure of his fingers on her hips would leave its mark as well, but they were both past caring. Her breathing hitched as she repeatedly rose and thrust back down, his hips rising to meet her every time. Eventually, one of his hands moved up to cup a breast; his thumb traced circles around her nipple, the blunt edge of his nail catching on her areola. She moaned and rested her forehead against his, biting her lip as she fought to hold back her cries.

Bill grunted as he thrust upwards, feeling his control slipping. As one hand continued to massage her breast, his other hand shifted to caress the crease of her hip, his thumb sliding between them to provide extra pressure to her clit.

She cried out then, her grip on his shoulders growing impossibly tighter as her inner muscles began to contract. Bill paused briefly, watching her face as her orgasm coursed through her. Then he thrust upward again, his thumb rubbing across her clit to pull her with him as he came.

"Laura!" Her name was ripped from his throat in a low rasp as his body trembled.

As the haze of pleasure faded, Laura pressed gentle kisses along his neck, her lips lingering on his pulse as it gradually slowed. He wrapped his arms around her back, knowing she would soon be chilled.

"Looks like you've got yourself a few more buttons to fix," Bill commented at last.

Laura laughed and kissed him.

"Next to loving you, that's my favorite pastime."

* * *


End file.
